Stay
by whiplash-girlchild
Summary: Bering and Wells AU - Romanti-Pervy. "Funny you're the broken one, but I'm the only one who needed saving. When you never see the light it's hard to tell which one of us is caving." (It should go without saying, but please review.)
1. Chapter 1

Stay

I've been listening to this song a lot, and it hasn't helped my "feels" one bit. I always thought it would be perfect for Bering and Wells. But it did inspire me to write again after a very long hiatus. So, there's that. Enjoy. – Whiplash-Girlchild

Pairing: Bering/Wells AU – Warehouse 13 – Myka's POV

"_Not sure how to feel about it, but something in the way you move, makes me feel like I can't live without you. It takes me all the way. I want you to stay." – Rihanna / Stay_

You know she is dangerous. You know she is nothing but a scoundrel and a thief and her motives are questionable at best. But there is a moment when your eyes meet and her gaze explodes upon your soul, like an atom bomb. It rakes over you, windswept and heated, then you shiver inside. Your gun is pointed at her and you falter as you feel your heart ricochet in your ribcage, pacing back and forth slamming up against the walls screaming, "Let me out of here, I am innocent!" And you wish you could let it out of you, because then you wouldn't be feeling this, whatever "this" is. She is in motion now, quirking at you, a kissable mouth and holding your gaze with those mysterious eyes. If you were not terribly mistaken you might guess this was what "Love at First Sight" must feel like. But, you must be mistaken. You have to be mistaken. Her hips swing towards you in a steady rhythm, like a metronome and you jerk your eyes upwards, hoping she does not notice your leering. She does. The smile that over takes her face is absolutely adorable and you cannot help but return it with a lazy grin of your own.

"Well, that was rather dramatic, wasn't it? You never intended to shoot me at all, did you?" She says in her pleasing English lilt.

You find yourself nodding stupidly, punctuating every syllable with a nod of your head. You feel absurd and awkward, two things you haven't associated with yourself since high-school. You raise your hand and brush it through your curly locks in a gesture that is supposed to comfort you. The arm holding your gun hangs limply at your side. HG moves closer and disarms you with no opposition from yourself. And it is almost as if your limbs were incapable of moving, just like your brain is incapable of functioning with the smell of sandalwood and an enchanting floral musk that she exudes in the air. You breathe in deeply because you want to wrap yourself up in that scent. You want it to envelope you and wrap itself around you, weaving itself into every fiber of your being.

"Agent Bering, are you alright?" she asks, with a sincere concern lacing her voice.

And you have every reason not to trust her, every reason to run in the other direction. Every reason to have shot her, according to your training, but you never would. You were doomed to fail. The second you laid eyes on her, your will was not your own. Not in an artifact-esque sort of way, but more in the "dear—lord- god-woman-you-are-perfection" sort of way. Your breath stutters out of you in small gasps and HG Wells surveys you cautiously.

"_If you dare come a little closer…"_

You do not even want to debate your sexuality with yourself at this point, because clearly she affects you, clearly. This woman, looking very much like a Greek goddess standing before you in a brown trench coat, simple blouse, slacks and black riding boots. You really should not find that outfit as startlingly sexual as you do. But you are pretty sure your pupils must be dilated from the thoughts you are having and you berate yourself as she continues to stare at you.

"I do not wish to leave you here in such state, I must know that you are alright, darling," she sighs. And in general, it is a strange reaction to have towards an Agent who not minutes ago had pointed her gun in her face. Her hand brushes at your hair and pins some of it gently behind your left ear. There is tenderness and affection between you despite the fact you are strangers and you wonder to yourself, not for the first time after reading her file, if you might have met in a former life. You close your eyes and lean into her touch.

"Say it again," you murmur.

"Say what, again?" she laughs amusedly at your antics.

"Darling," you whisper.

Her expression is unreadable for a few moments before you feel her lips on yours. You feel your back hit the wall and you bounce forward slightly from the impact. The kiss flies straight past being innocent and is full-blown making out, much more reckless and messy than you ever were as a teenager, but it is exhilarating and startling all at once. It should be too much tongue, but it is just enough. It should feel strange to have her lick and suck at the corners of your mouth and lips, but it isn't. And it feels like you are having a heart attack, your chest is contracting wildly and you are sure you can feel the unruly muscle smash against your breast plate. Her tongue weaves around yours in an elegant dance, one of her hands tangling and grasping in your curly brown locks at the base of your neck, the other gliding smoothly across the planes of your back. It should feel strange but it mostly feels bewildering when one of her hands roves over the front of your body, caressing your curves underneath your blazer.

And you are not a fast-sort-of-girl. You are not easy, but god will you be easy for her. The rational part of your brain has left the building, as the animal in you is unleashed. The wolf contained, barely fed, starved for attention, howls within you like a beast. You feel yourself contract and gush between your legs, and no you are not ever having the sexuality debate with yourself, ever at this point, because you do not have any defense for that.

Her hand comes up swiftly and brushes against your breast, once, twice, three times, before it just becomes blatant groping and you are more than embarrassed at the moan that escapes you. She pulls back slightly and her smirk is arrogant and wild, and it just fuels your lust like gasoline. You push forward to bite her lip and she kisses you again, slower this time. Suddenly you think of every time you have ever seen her, fleeting glances, file photos and worn daguerreotypes, the locomotion of her hips, the set of her jaw, the quirking of her lips, the vastness of her eyes. There is something in the way she moves, it makes you feel like you cannot live without it and it terrifies you slightly. You want her to stay.

It is a strange thing, to feel that way about someone you do not even know. You kiss her passionately, slowly before you pull away and whisper, "My hotel. Stay with me, stay." And you cannot read the expression in those deep dark eyes, but your hazel burn with intensity back into hers and you cannot tell if she knows that you mean, forever. Stay with me, here tonight, in this moment and for the rest of our lives. But it would be silly to say it, would it not? It would be silly to ask her if she felt the same, the fire, the intense connection, the bashing of her heart trying to escape the confines of its bowed ribbed cell, asking, begging for release. You pant heavily in the silence between you as she stares at you. Out of sheer curiosity you take your trembling hand and place it against her breast plate.

What you feel, surprises you. You are met with the same syncopated rhythm of a heart on fire, her breath coming out in shallow pants in return to yours. In your frenzied state, despite your raging desire a part of you wants to be loved. Not by anyone, but by her, for her to be your lover. Not just someone you have slept with, someone who loves and is loved by you. You close your eyes and steady yourself as images of a life you may never have together flashes behind your eyelids. It does not seem bad at all, to love like that. To take care of and to shelter her, to challenge and to guide her, to be protected and loved by her, no that would not be bad at all.

You drop your hand as the fever begins to cool. "I'm. I'm sorry we did that. No, that's not what I meant. I mean I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," you sputter.

"Oh," she startles looking somewhat hurt and maybe disappointed, "well I see, it is perfectly natural to be curious then is it not?"

"No, I mean, it's not," you say waving your hands in front of yourself. "I've kissed a girl before."

HG's sculpted eyebrow jerks into her hairline and you cannot help but smile.

"I'm not the first? Darling, I'm hurt." She places her hand against her chest in a mock gesture.

"I wish you were the first," you blurt, then sputter, blushing a bright, humiliating red. "I mean, not the first, first, but, Oh God if you were the first that would be amazing. I mean, no that's not what I meant. Oh, God please let the ground swallow me whole right now." You palm your face abruptly ending your rant.

"Why, my dear Ms. Bering, are you trying to seduce me?" she says laughing so charmingly. The sound musical to your ears, caressing them and you shiver.

"Well, if you could call what I just did there seduction," you sheepishly whisper. The shy girl inside of you cringes at your lack of cool. "The name is Myka, by the way. I mean, since we made out and all, you should at least know my first name or be properly introduced."

"Sound logic," she replies with a grin. "I'm Helena. And sweet Myka, it would be a pleasure to have my heart broken by you."

"I wouldn't do that," you state a little too quickly. "Break your heart, I mean."

"Why? You do not even know me. I am a Villain remember? A scoundrel, destroyer of worlds, or something, yes?"

"No, I don't believe for a second that's who you are." You whisper confidently.

"You are quite certain." She lilts tilting her head and regarding you tenderly.

"I feel it," you say pointing at your breast bone, "here." Taking your finger and tapping it softly.

"Yes, I suppose you do." She sighs wistfully.

"I read your file," you blurt honestly.

"What did it tell you about me?" she inquires pleasantly, smiling encouragingly at you.

"It said all sorts of things. All sorts of things I can't reconcile in my head because they don't fit who you are. You're brilliant. You're gorgeous. You're intellectual and kind. So gentle and so passionate and it doesn't make any sense because that file didn't help me understand you at all."

"Well, you seem rather taken with me," she laughs softly. "And perhaps, adorn me too generously with traits I cannot hope to maintain."

"No, they're you. It's why I'm attracted you." You slap your hand over your mouth.

"Well darling, we just made out and groped each other like horny teenagers, I think the fact we're attracted to one another is out-of-the-bag, so to speak."

You blush even further as you squeak out, "Yeah, I guess so." You gesture between you. "I'm just not used to feeling this way, about anyone. I thought I'd been _in love_ before, you know? I had Sam. I thought, I mean, nothing about this is what I thought it would be. People can't surprise you, can they?"

"Sometimes, they can." She says softly staring at you with chocolate eyes. "Love you say? In love."

"Oh," you startle again covering your mouth, realizing what you just revealed. You pull your hand away and gaze at the floor. "I guess I've always loved you, even before I met you. I've read your books my entire life. I mean, you've been there, every step of the way. Even when I couldn't see you, I felt you. Your words embedded themselves into me, carved a place out in my soul. I've carried you with me, every place I have ever been and still we end up here, with you in my shaking hands. I knew that I was going to love you. I just didn't know who you were yet. What you looked like. I couldn't help but love you and I don't want to stop."

"Oh my," Helena gasps tossing her hair elegantly over her shoulder and it flows like a river of black silk across them. Her shirt gapes at her neck line, revealing several tantalizing freckles and you smile lazily at them, dotting her pale skin.

"I'm sorry," you whisper near tears. "I'm sorry for this because I want you. Not in the purely sexual sense, although that would be wonderful too," you hear her chuckle. "But because I want you to stay with me. I want you to love me. I want everything. I want the heart and desperate aching soul of you. I want it to rush over me and beat against me like waterfall and for it to sometimes suck and swell and pull me under, but make me stronger for it. I just want you."

"Oh dear," she gasps again. "You are quite the romantic."

"I guess so," you whisper shuffling your feet from side to side. Then you look up and let your hazel eyes lock with hers, "but only for you."

Helena looks thoughtful for a moment as she bites her lip. A vault of secrets waiting to be opened, such mystery and intrigue, such beauty and such sadness, you want to take it away from her. You want to make her happy.

"I know I could make you happy," you whisper.

"Stop," she says holding up her hand, near tears herself.

"I'm sorry," you whisper again, letting a few tears fall. "I'm, I'll go. I really wanted to have this moment with you. To let myself just be with you, to give myself to you. I really did, but I think it's going to tear my heart out of me, Helena. I can't look at what you are, inside and out, and just walk away from that. I want you so bad it stings. No, it burns. It's like I'm on fire from the inside out. I can't live like that. I don't want to have to live like that. I can't look at you right now without wanting to rip your clothes from your body and make love to you all night or fuck you against this wall! It's not me at all, but I feel it so damn much it's killing me. But I want so much, so, so much and I know I'm greedy and I'm a fool, but damn it, do you think? Do you think you could love me, someday?" You shudder crying ugly tears and _"where did that come from?" dear lord_, you chastise yourself.

Helena moves to embrace you gently shushing you with a soft embrace. "Shhhhh, shhh, there, there, now," she coos. "I had no idea you felt this way."

"How could you?" You sob. "I didn't even understand it myself."

Her arms encircle you gently before she moves to let you go. You make a noise of discomfort as she pulls away and hiccup a sob.

"My darling Myka, I must be honest with you now, for if I do not I fear I may never forgive myself." She utters, eyes still glistening from unshed tears. "I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. It rocked me to my very core; how you were just everything I had ever wanted, standing there in one moment. I cannot hope to explain it to myself. All I know is that every single step I've taken has led me back to you. Every single desire I have chased has guided me into your arms. They say that only fools believe in fate, my dear. But from what I have felt and what I have seen, darling I'm a fool."

"What," you hiccup again still crying slightly. "Are you saying?"

"That I cannot live without you, that I love you, and that all those things I thought I would never want, I desperately crave, with you. I love you, Myka Bering. And, whatever might come our way, I'd like to face it, together." She finishes smiling.

"Oh," you dumbly respond. "Oh!" You run at her squealing as you kiss her face. Her laughter bubbles up from her like a fountain as you continue your assault wrapping your arms around her. Your kisses eventually become less frenzied and more slow and languid as you find her wanting mouth. You kiss for a while, becoming reacquainted it seems, with each other's bodies. And it feels so familiar this love, this thing between you that you must have carried it with you from another life. Or, it was predestined to come to you. Only one of you was born to early or too late as the case may be. All you know is that now you have found her, you cannot let her go.

"Shall we go back to your hotel now, darling?" Helena purrs into your ear and you shiver.

You nod dumbly and grasp her hands.

How did you end up here?

At every fork in the road of life you have struggled fought against the current to be where you are. And it has seemed right, but it had felt somewhat lacking. Now, as the current sweeps over you, carries you into bed with this woman, everything feels as it should be. Everything, feels right.

You disrobe quietly in the low light and Helena's eyes sparkle as they watch. They sparkle even in the dark. You stand in your underwear as she bites at her lip wantonly and eyes you from a distance, almost afraid to touch you, as she thinks you are a fragile, yet beautiful thing. "Touch me," you whisper. And she rockets forward, like a tiger, leaping towards its prey.

"You are just lovely, darling. Everywhere," she whispers as her hands glide down the planes of your body and you shiver.

"You're slightly over-dressed for this occasion, Ms. Wells," you purr into her ear and she moans. It delights you to make her sound like that. You want to do it over and over again, for the rest of your life.

Your fumbling hands pull and tug at her clothing as you start to undress her; first, her blazer, then, the buttons of her blouse, that you push gently from her shoulders, uncovering a vast expanse of freckled alabaster skin. You allow your eyes to linger upon her body. Small and perfect for you, the sculpted planes of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the musculature of her legs, the apex of her thighs. You bring your eyes up and let a contented sigh escape your lips as you stare openly at her chest, encased in an ornate black lace bra. You let your hand reach behind her and fumble for the clasp before you hear her purr into your ear, "The clasp is in the front, darling."

You growl low in your throat at that, your hunger rising to near deadly levels. The animal inside you begins to pace back and forth in the confines of its cage, a space far too small to contain it. Tonight you are going to let it out. Tonight your desire shall find a home. You will never starve it this long again. Tonight, the wait is over.

You release the clasp and all rational thought ceases as you stare at her small but lovely breasts. It seems like she wants to say something, apologize to you perhaps, all women are self-conscious. But she is perfect for you. And you silence her with a kiss as you begin to fondle her chest, in earnest. "You are gorgeous. Just gorgeous," you fondle and tug at her nipples as you pant and you feel the indomitable HG Wells legs buckle slightly. "I wanna make you come so bad," you groan and this time you do feel it, her legs _do_ buckle as she braces for support against a nearby wall.

"You are certainly off to a wonderful start," she says, her voice coming out somewhat strangled.

You kiss and nip and lick all along the smooth column of her neck. You suck hard on her pulse point and with every moan she makes, the wetness between your legs becomes more pronounced, until it is a painful throbbing that pulses inside you with every heartbeat. But, you do not want this to end too quickly. You kiss and lick down her collar bone hovering just above her chest. Then you let your lips wrap around one of her nipples as you stroke and tug the other and you release a pornographic groan that embarrasses even yourself.

Helena slams her fist against the wall in a helpless gesture and you smile around her breast as you continue to lave your tongue around it. You continue to worship her chest, switching from one to the other until you feel her body jerk and stiffen and she releases a groan.

"Did you just? Did you just cum?" You gasp.

"Darling, I think I just did," she whimpers.

"I just, oh my god, that was hot," you say huffing out your breath.

"Yes, you are very good at that. Are you sure you have never done this before?" She teases as she wraps her arms around you.

"Unless you count visualization, no," you chuckle. "But there has been plenty of that."

"Oh my, well we must see what you have been dreaming up in that little head of yours," Helena purrs.

"I've got big plans for you, Ms. Wells," you smirk. "Better buckle up, because it's going to be a hell of a ride."

"I hope so," she growls.

You lift her into the air and her legs wrap around you as you kiss the hot cavern of her mouth. Both of your combined moans are reaching obscene levels but you cannot bring yourself to care. Although, you do fleetingly feel bad for whoever occupies the room next to you. You are shaken from your thoughts as you feel Helena's wetness brush against your stomach and you gasp, breaking your kiss.

"Oh, god. Oh, god," you whimper feeling like a horny teenage boy. And you know you've never felt like this, never wanted something as bad as you want her. You only hope that your own release doesn't kill you because you would really like to stay.

You carry Helena over to the bed as you lay her down gently and she looks up at you with her smoldering eyes. "So, strong Agent Bering. So, beautiful," she whispers and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest at the affectionate words. You flex your arms as you lean down to kiss her, muscles in your stomach rippling in anticipation as you say, "I love you, Helena G. Wells. I've been waiting for you, all my life."

She moans as you kiss her mouth tenderly, passionately. Your bodies a shaking mass of limbs and moonlit sweat glowing. As you finally remove the final vestiges of your clothing and you settle your naked body down upon hers, you tense your muscles and release them, letting out an obscene groan. This is coming home. Not the place that you had come from. Not the place that you were born. Here, in her arms, on her skin, smell of sandalwood and spice in the air. This was home, the home that you had always longed for, the one box inside your heart that had never seemed to fit, suddenly shifted in to place. _"I'm home," _you think as you slide your bodies together in an erotic dance.

You let your hand travel downward between you until it is between her legs and you drop your forehead to hers and moan as her ample wetness greets you.

"God, you are going to be the death of me," she groans.

"Helena you're absolutely gorgeous," you whisper, unable to do anything but adore her in this moment. You dip your fingers in between her swollen lips, gliding around, stroking, touching, and caressing the most intimate part of her. Her squeaks and gasps spur you on as you discover the fascination men have with the female anatomy.

You work gently around her entrance and you hear her groan. "Yes, yes Myka please."

Her wanton moans spur you on further as you slide one finger inside, pumping slowly. "Oh, god. Oh, dear god," Helena gasps panting. "Another, please Myka. More."

You swallow hard as you push in another, picking up a natural rhythm that belies your experience. Your body is telling you what to do, how to love her. Your passion is dictating every kiss, every lick, and every touch. You do not need a manual; you do not need instruction as your body works its will upon her. You feel her clench and flutter around you and your eyes roll back in your head as you cum a little more. It runs down your thighs in an embarrassing display, but you cannot bring yourself to be ashamed of your passion for this woman. "Fuck. Yes, fucking fuck me harder," Helena moans. And dear god, just when you thought it could not get any sexier, it does.

You push and pull like the tide, stronger, deeper, harder. Rolling waves of desire thrown off of you onto her. And she swells, she crests, she rides the waves. You watch her in slow motion and you are captivated by what you see. So much desire and love written across her face, the muscles of her jaw working and tensing, her body trembling, covered in sweat and shining in the moonlit glow, you rock into her chanting her name like a prayer. "Helena. Helena. Helena." You wrap your lips around her nipple and suck as you continue the pushing and pulling with your hand, your other arm trembles from the exertion of holding up your weight but you ignore the burn as your heart is set on fire. It is not enough, you realize. It will never be enough. You will never have enough of her.

You alternate your hungry kisses with worshiping her breasts and you feel her muscles begin to flutter around your fingers. "Fuck," you whimper lost in her dark eyes. "God, I love you," you moan as you feel her gush around you. Finally the waves break over her, and her back arches off the bed, a scream of pleasure bursting forth from her lips.

You continue stroking inside her gently until she comes down from her high. "Come back to me," you whisper. "Stay with me," you coax. You hear her sigh as she comes back to you, still panting from the exertion of it all.

"Myka," she whispers as she kisses you. "Myka, I love you." And your heart explodes within you, you are sure of it, from happiness and love.

"I love you too, Helena." You proclaim honestly. "I always have, waiting for you was such agony."

"Much more so for me, darling," she whispers. "But it was worth it, to be here with you. It was all worth it."

She kisses you then and rolls you over. You feel the wetness she left behind on the bed sheets and you groan with pleasure. "Dear god, you're sexy." You moan.

She smirks victoriously and slides her hand between your legs. "You are not so bad yourself, Ms. Bering."

(Author's Note: There it is guys. Romanti-pervy is my specialty genre. *winks* I hope you all enjoyed. If you want more feels, go listen to the song on you-tube.)


	2. Chapter 2

Consequence

Welp, where would you like to see this story go? Smutty one-shots? Continuing plot ? (LOL who likes plot with their porn? Silly, WG.) – Whiplash-Girlchild

Pairing: Bering/Wells AU – Warehouse 13 – Myka's POV

"_Leave me, hypnotized love." – Consequence / The Notwist _

_(This turned out angsty – much more than I intended. Well, the story wants what it wants. I just created this thing, now I have to let it become what it wants to be.)_

"_Fail with consequence. Lose with elegance. And smile." – Consequence / The Notwist_

_(And this story might shift between first and third person. What? I never claimed to be a professional. I don't beta and I don't have a proof-reader. So sue me. But remember, I'm a tiny kitten. Now, try and hate me. And try to enjoy. Rated M, because I'm nothing if not a devoted pervert.)_

* * *

It is the little things that get you into trouble. The wanting things. The breathless aching things buried so deep in the heart of you, you would be ashamed if they ever broke loose from the cage of your chest and collapsed into a jumbled heap onto the floor. All those aching desires, those things you would not dare confess to even a sibling; those are the things that fuck you up. And, as you watch Helena sleep, wrapped up in your favorite shirt, softly snoring in the most precious way, you let yourself cry a little bit at how domestic and beautiful this morning has turned out to be. The shafts of sunlight creep through the hotel's cheap blinds, casting sheaves of light against the walls around you. Bending, twisting, careening against the walls, ricocheting into your heart and shining a spotlight onto all your shameful childhood dreams of romance. You never cared who it was that you fell in love with. You never had a concrete picture in your mind, a Prince Charming, if you will. It was always the rogue-ish characters that captivated you, the swashbucklers who seduced the reserved and erudite princess. It appears you did have a type, you were just not aware of it on any conscious level. You smile to yourself as you run your fingers through her jet black mane and you hear her mumble in her sleep, "This is such a magnificent creature. I've always wanted to ride…a hamster." You cover your mouth stifling your laughter at H.G.'s preciousness and your heart threatens to burst from love.

It is the little things that leave you wanting. You know the life of a Warehouse Agent is fraught with danger and often despair, but that does not keep you from seeing it, a family; maybe a little girl of your own, a girl with dark, vast, questioning eyes, just like her mother. You pinch the bridge of your nose gently. Helena has never mentioned wanting another child, but you see yourself, with her, with a child, hand-in-hand, walking the tight-rope that is your life. How would you begin to protect a child when you are not even very good at protecting your own heart? You sigh as you rise from the bed and slip on an oversized shirt. You are over-thinking things again, like you always do. You are good at never getting into love, but never at getting in. You are always on the outside of it. Looking into love hopelessly, seeing the beauty just out of your grasp. You are shaken from your thoughts by frantic knocking at your hotel door. "Hey, Mykes! Mykes! Mykey!" You frown at the noise and the suddenly masculine nickname. Just like Pete to intrude on your moment of peace and beauty.

You rush to the door and pull it open enough to jam your head into the open space. "What is it, Pete? And be quiet for god's sakes!"

"Whoa! Good morning, Starshine! Good to see your shining face, too. We've got a ping. Artie says it could be trouble, maybe someone moving in on one of the Artifacts we're tracking. Anything strange come up last night?"

"Um, no," you lie, badly. Softly snoring in the room behind you, Helena lays like a tiny starfish, dreaming of riding a magnificent hamster.

"Is there, is there someone in there with you, Mykes?" Pete questions with an almost childlike wonder. "Because, whoa. Who is the lucky stud? I've got to meet the guy who defrosted you."

"Shut up," you whisper playfully. "I wasn't 'defrosted'. I wasn't frozen to begin with." You lightly chuckle.

"Come on. Come on! Who is he? Is he like someone we know? Gimme a hint! I'm dying here." Pete exclaims excitedly jumping up and down.

"For god's sake, be quiet, Pete. You'll wake her up," you shout-whisper at the childish glee that adorns your partner's face before realizing your mistake.

Somewhere, the loud sound of a record-scratch can be heard.

"Wait. Her? A she? She's a she? Oh, man this is hot." Pete squealed. "Wait until I tell Claudia!"

"We are not telling Claudia!" You garble. "I mean, not right now. I mean, why would you tell Claudia?"

"We sort of had a bet about your sexuality." Pete sheepishly admits while donning an angelic grin.

"You what?!" You whisper-shout with all your conviction. "You took bets on my sexuality? What, I mean. Did you bet against me?"

"It's not how it sounds, Mykes," Pete stammers. "I bet there was no way you weren't a sausage-lover, no offense. So, I put my money on bisexual." He offers as if it was the most genteel thing he could have said to you. "Claude thought you were definitely more into the ladies than you let on, so she bet…"

"I get it!" You yelp. "I don't want to debate this right now! I've got a sleeping starfish…I mean, woman in my bed and things are a bit stressful at the moment."

"Calm down, Mykes." Pete reassures. "It's not even close to stressful, yet. Artie and Claudia are on their way over to the hotel.

You shut the door in Pete's face faster than you mean to, ignoring his shout of, "Owww!" through the heavy wood slab. And he is still talking to you about Artie and the Warehouse but all you can think is, _"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"_ As you scramble around to pull on your clothes. You rush over to the bed and take a calming glance at her beautiful frame before you shake her lightly whispering, "Helena. Helena. Wake up, beautiful."

She mumbles playfully a bit more and you smile at her childlike innocence in her sleep. All darkness, all sorrow, seemingly gone. She stirs and you lightly kiss her lips in adoration. You go to deepen your kiss but pull away as you hear Pete shout, "Hey, Artie's here! Claudia too, what's up buttercup?" And Helena sits bolt upright in bed, your _Great Gatsby_ t-shirt looking far too big on her slender frame.

"Pete, Artie and Claudia are here," you whisper frantically.

And Helena blinks, but mouths, "God, why?" at you and you think it is just the cutest thing ever, oh my god. You kiss her quickly and shrug mouthing, "Get dressed." And she smirks as she pulls off your shirt revealing her creamy breasts to your feral eyes. You stand frozen in place as you lick your lips, bemusedly thinking Claudia may be _the smartest of you,_ after all, before Helena pulls you into a filthy kiss that leaves you breathless.

"You stop that, right now," you squeal. "This isn't helping."

"Sorry, darling." She whispers in the most sultry fashion your ears have ever heard.

You dress in record time, agreeing in a hurry that it's best not to surprise your team with Helena's face right off the bat. You both agree that her waiting in the bathroom for a bit, while you break the ice, seems like a better idea. You pray it goes smoothly.

As you open the door your team rushes inside, Claudia's nose immediately wrinkling up in distaste.

"Whoa, dude. It smells like sex in here, bad. I mean, damn girl. We're glad you got your swerve on, but baby Jesus."

You slap your hand over your face as you try to motion towards the kitchen.

Everyone wordlessly migrates in that direction, but Pete eyes the bed longingly looking for your playmate. "Where is she?" he says sadly.

"She's in the bathroom," you choke out.

"Whoa. What," Claudia shouts. "She? I totally won twenty bucks and maybe a box of Twinkies, if my luck holds out!" she squeals jumping up and down in tandem with Pete.

"What is everyone talking about!" Artie shouts. "We just got a ping. I'm glad everyone thinks it's quite special that you have a lady-friend, Myka, but frankly I don't care! You could be nailing Abraham Lincoln and I'd be more concerned if the air pressure in my tires was low!"

You hold your face in a neutral expression and try desperately to maintain your professionalism.

"There was a ping last-night, maybe another Agent in the area tracking one of our Artifacts. Did you run into anyone while you were on recon last night, Agent Bering?"

You open your mouth and then close it. Open and then closed. You want to say something but all that emerges from your throat is a small squeak.

"She did, I'm afraid. Quite the scoundrel, at that," Helena states calmly emerging from the hallway.

Simultaneously, everyone but your Tesla's are drawn and pointed at HG. You move to shield her, "No, hold your fire! She's here with me!"

"Wait, what?" Claudia screeches. "You and HG. You and HG did the hibbidy-dibbity. Oh my god, this is awesome!"

"I don't even know what that means," Helena exclaims from behind you and you laugh softly.

"You had intercourse! You shagged her brains out! Wow, amazing," Claudia states pacing up and down the room.

Artie fumes for a few moments never lowering his Tesla. "Agent Bering, haven't we been over dangerous former Agents with you? Do you like ignoring protocols? Do you even listen when we try to protect you?!"

"She's not dangerous," you yelp.

"Because you frisked her, right," Artie sarcastically drawls.

You stare at him helplessly. "I just know, Artie. Trust me. I know."

"I can't trust that. That's all of our lives, Myka. If I trust her now, I might doom all of us."

"I want to be with her," HG exclaims behind you. "I won't hurt her, I promise. We're in love."

"Awwww," Claudia squeals.

"Shut up!" Artie yells.

Pete scratches his head as he stares at you and HG. He had never known what to make of you two. But he had always been jealous. Almost as if he knew, she was the one thing that could steal you away from him. He hated being left behind and with you two, he always felt as if he was playing catch up.

"Pete, look at me," you say gently. "This doesn't change anything. I'm still your partner."

Pete's face scrunches up uncomfortably and you feel a pang in your chest at his discomfort. "This is _'cool'_ remember? I'm nailing a chick, woo-hoo," You offer trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Pete drawls. "No, this isn't cool at all."

"Wait, Pete. Look at me," you beg. "You don't understand. I'm in love with her."

"I get it!" he shouts. "I get it! Why didn't you tell me, Myka! I deserved to know. You got closer to her all this time and I didn't even have a clue what was happening. I feel like an idiot, Mykes!"

"No, I didn't mean to hurt any of you," you whisper. "I just want to be happy. I want you to be happy for me. This life is so lonely, so painful and I found someone to share it with me, to love me! I wanted to tell you. I did, but I knew you'd judge her, judge me. I couldn't take that from you, from any of you!" You shout near tears.

"Myka, you know she's trouble!" Artie and Pete shout in unison and then startle, looking at each other.

Claudia hugs herself tighter and closes her eyes. You think that maybe she is used to hearing adults fighting around her from the way she withdraws into herself at the first signs of shouting. Curled in, her body looking shrunken and twisted, very much the way your insides feel. You see the pain etched on the younger girl's face and your heart aches again, twisting inside you, burning white hot.

Helena runs over and embraces Claudia uttering fiercely, "Stop it, all of you! This isn't helping. None of this is. No one's doomed to be trouble. I will not have you impose your will upon me. This is my life, over a century late, but still mine for living. No man will dictate it to me, ever!"

"Lady," Pete growls. "I don't think even the Devil could tell you what to do."

Claudia sniffles in HG's arms and you love her all the more for comforting her. You stride confidently to stand by her side and rest your head on her shoulder, cradling Claudia gently as well. A make-shift family, perhaps one you could grow to adore.

Pete and Artie stand motionless as they regard each other quietly.

"We're not the bad guys here, Myka. You know that right? We're only trying to protect you, to protect the rest of the world."

"I appreciate that," you murmur. "But I'm the hero of my own story, guys. Trust me, for once."

Pete and Artie look at you like the will to fight has left them and you feel like you have gained important ground in this particular battle.

"I want to take HG back to the Bed and Breakfast with us," you stammer.

Artie raises his hand, but Pete pushes it down.

"The bed and breakfast is fine, but she's not getting anywhere near the Warehouse." Pete growls.

Helena raises her sculpted eyebrow at him but nods all the same.

Artie steps forward. "Well, at least at the B&B we can keep an eye on her, while I contact the Regents. Leena will be tasked with keeping her in-line. No leaving the B&B, no contact with the outside. If you accept our conditions Ms. Wells, you can come along."

Helena looks like she has more that she wants to say, standing defiant in the middle of you and Claudia. You hear her sharp exhale and she looks to her side at you. A cage has never appealed to her. Being bound to something, perhaps to someone has never been her way. But as she looks at you with tenderness in her eyes, you realize, that she could one day give up everything she held dear for you. In that glimmering instant, you see deep into those fathomless eyes and it makes you shake inside. She will give up everything, for you.

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South Dakota, Univille – Leena's Bed & Breakfast

In this setting, you feel different, but the same. The tiny fractured pieces of your heart, held together, by the whisper of a dream and a memory, love. It is the little things that get you into trouble, the aching desperate needing things. Like how you need Helena, how you need her words and her spirit, her life, her silken skin, her dark, mysterious eyes and her pale alabaster body, moving beneath you in the dark. You gasp out a breath as you make your way to her newly assigned room at the B&B. Leena had smudged it with sage and sprinkled it with salt, praying to remove all vestiges of darkness, the darkness that seemed to cling to H.G., to make her all the more alluring.

What would she be without that darkness? Incomplete, not whole, a different person entirely, beguiling but too soft, too unsure, too yielding. No, Myka would love her as she was. The sorrow that followed Helena was no match for her, weapons of light poised to fight the dark. The anger and fear were powerful indeed, but love, Myka believed, was the strongest thing of all, love that had guided them both into each other's arms. Myka cautiously raised her hand and knocked on the wooden door that separated her from her heart's desire.

"Yes," she heard a soft English lilt respond.

"It's me. It's Myka. I wanted to see you. You've been so quiet since we've brought you here and you're possibly ignoring me. And, I don't think I can handle that. Handle you hating me for what happened between us. I don't want to talk about this through the door, though. Will you let me in?"

_Such a loaded question. Will you let me into your life? Into the very heart of you? Will you let me love you the way that I want to? Without fear. Without boundries. Without regard. Do you hear the volumes I am speaking to you, rushing in through my words in every silent space between us? Will you let me in?_

She opened the door slowly and your breath caught in your throat. She was wearing an emerald green dress that made her alabaster skin and raven hair stand out, her dark eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions and mysteries to unravel. You drank in every inch of her. You could drink an entire case of Helena and still crave more. It was a dark thirst that would never be satisfied.

"Darling, please do come in," she graciously offers.

There was no denial of avoidance you noted, or of hating you a little bit. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. Helena closed the door wordlessly behind you and turns to face you, an unreadable expression fixed upon her face.

"Okay," you begin. "I know you feel it too, this thing between us. You even told me that you loved me. I believed that. I still do. But, now you're avoiding me, this, us. And, I want to know why. You said we were in love. That you're in love with me, and God help me, I'm in love with you. I want all of you Helena, not just scraps. Not just pieces of you that you think are 'safe' for me to have."

"I don't want to hurt you," H.G. sighs languidly dragging her hand through her raven locks. "And I will, eventually. I don't know how to do this, how to love you and fight the darkness both."

"You don't have to do this alone, you have me," you whisper filled with emotion.

"I don't have anything," she whispers. "Time has taken from me everything I will ever love and it will someday claim us both. This existence, I will never understand it. What is the point of all this pain?! That's all I want Myka, is for this pain to seem purposeful! To have greater meaning, for then I have not suffered in vain!"

"I can't promise that it has a purpose, Helena," you say reaching out to trace along her arm. "I can't promise you that any of it is supposed to mean anything! But when I look at you, I believe. I believe in a love so great it will make the gods tremble. I believe in every myth ever created. Aphrodite come to life in mortal form in a desperate beauty so powerful, so tortured, yet so brave. I believe our purpose is to live through our pain. To let it teach us how to love, to learn that despite our great suffering, we can still be happy. We won't be unhappy will we," you choke out.

"No, I don't want you to be unhappy," Helena gasps.

"Well, good," you sob. "Because you are what makes me happy. I suffered too, Helena. I suffered so many lonely nights, training myself not to care about anything, especially not about you. But I do care, so very much. Every single person on this planet has a story that would break your heart. But here we are! Here we are unafraid to love! Unafraid to say, 'Here I am! You see me. See me like no one else ever has and possibly never will again! Here I am, asking you to love me.' Don't be afraid of it, Helena, of me."

"Oh dear," you hear her croon. "I am supposed to be the wordsmith and here you are dear girl, stealing away with my heart."

"Good," you chuckle. "Now kiss the girl that owns your heart."

And she crosses to you swiftly and crushes your bodies together. "You do, you know, have my heart. Dear God, you stole it away the moment I saw you. I recoiled from the shock of it, but it continued to beat inside my blood until all I could feel was you."

"Helena," you whisper claiming her lips.

And you both are lit on fire. Burning with a fever so bright, you illuminate the darkness. You stumble onto her bed, scratching, licking, tearing at one another's clothes, so desperately. As if you know, that when a fire burns white hot, it can also burn out. But you do not think it ever will. Something like this is the stuff of fairy tales, of legends, and you can imagine the files on you both that some Agent will read in the future will be amazing, indeed.

You are pulled from your thoughts as Helena, licks and sucks feverishly on your throbbing pulse point.

"Oh," you gasp unable to articulate your desire.

"God, have you always felt like this," she moans. "So soft, so hard, so bright, so beautiful," she gasps.

Now your body begins to shake. You think you know where this is going. You feel her hands stripping everything from you. All your layers, your barriers, your protection, you have laid your weapons down, for she had always known the words written across your heart, written in a foreign tongue, a dead language. And she had spoke them into your ear that first night and breathed you into life. Her kisses trail down your bare stomach to your slacks where she has begun unfastening your belt. You groan in anticipation and you feel her smile against your skin.

"Where do you want me, dear Myka," she utters.

"Everywhere," you moan. "I want to feel you everywhere."

"Your wish is my command, dear lady," she whispers as she descends upon you like a beautiful hurricane, all lust and fury.

She pulls your slacks down your legs as she lets her mouth brush against your panty clad center, her tongue snaking out to taste your arousal.

"Oh, Helena," You moan stripping yourself bare from the waist up, eager to be naked against her.

"My, my, you're eager," you hear her sexily laugh.

"God yes," you whisper. "I want to feel you inside me, on top of me, all over me. I need it like life needs life."

She growls as she rips your underwear trying to remove them and you lurch forward. _Well, that was undeniably sexy._ You feel her lick up your outer folds and you groan at the sweet intrusion.

"God, you taste so sweet," she mumbles more to herself.

You blush and watch her push her dress hurriedly from her own frame, kicking off her heels. Underwear quickly shed as she resumes her ministrations on your aching pussy.

"Oh, oh, oh!" you gasp struggling to breathe with each swipe of her talented tongue.

Your legs part further and you hear her groan in appreciation. As you glance down and look at her flushed cheeks and chest, nipples straining hungrily for your attention. You stutter out a gasp. It spurs her on, swiping, gliding, tasting the most intimate part of you. You feel debauched, you feel like you are on fire, but you feel alive.

You feel her fingers softly probe your entrance and your jaw sets, hard. "Inside," you stutter. "P...p...please, inside."

She groans her approval as you feel a slender digit work inside you. You cannot explain how it feels to feel her inside you, how she knows how to work your body, playing it like a violin, striking every chord. But she does, she makes you sing. Pushing, pulling, grasping, and reaching. Soon, a second finger joins the first, working on a glorious symphony with you. You pull Helena up until you are face to face and kiss her wantonly. Your taste is salty and sweet upon her lips, and you hungrily drink all that she has to give you.

"I love you," you whisper turning your head to the side, chanting in time with her steady rhythm. "I love you."

"Fuck, ugh," Helena groans. "I love you, Myka. I do."

With every thrust her thigh bumps her hand, and she goes deeper. Hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

"Right, there. Oh, yes. Yes. Don't stop," you scream wantonly.

Helena moans obscenely at that and you feel her wetness on your leg.

White light begins to spark behind your eyelids, electricity shooting down your spine, making every hair stand on end. The bed is lurching into the wall, making a dull thudding noise, you know is waking everyone, but you cannot bring yourself to care.

"Fuck, you feel good inside me," you scream. Not holding anything back. Not anymore. _Time to go all in, time to be a lion-hearted girl_, you think. So you let her see, let her see what she does to you. You quiver and shake, you tremble and cry. You shout and you return her passion with equal measure. You will be the greatest lover she has ever known. You will be the one to tame her.

Helena is shouting sweet obscenities, which sound sexier coming from her mouth than any obscenity should. "Fuck, fuck. You are so gorgeous, darling. Oh, fuck."

You know your orgasms are approaching you can see the light flashing even in her dark eyes. "Kiss me," you whisper. And she does, she kisses you hard and you both scream, white light tearing through you both as your bodies tense and tremble.

You gasp for air as you part, stroking down her back and gliding your hand across her ass as she collapses on top of you. You feel her wetness on you and you know you have to return the favor. You roll her over kissing her along the way.

"That was," you gasp and pant. "Incredible."

For her part, Helena chokes out a gasping breath. "I've never experienced anything quite like it," she mumbles.

You beam with pride and don an arrogant smirk. "Really? Tons and tons of lovers and never?"

"Well, I wouldn't say tons, darling. But, quite a few, and no, never," she whispers. "I never loved any of them the way I love you."

You beam a blinding smile and pull her close to you. You will make her scream and shout and confess her love for you, all night long.

And you both are the reason that Leena ordered all Agent quarters sound-proofed from now on. You and H.G. are making Warehouse history, already.

* * *

(Author's Note: Please, pretty please, review. It's like applause, I need it to live.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Heaven**

(Sorry I'm asking pretty shamelessly for reviews. But, I am pretty shameless. Shameless Perverts of the World Unite!) – Whiplash-Girlchild

Pairing: Bering/Wells AU – Warehouse 13 – H.G's POV (Helena G. Well's POV)

"_Never mind, I'm falling in love with you. My whole world, is falling in love with you." – Heaven / the Fire Theft_

* * *

It begins as a soft revolution. An unsettling feeling inside your chest that spreads like a fire, throbbing and pulsing through your blood like a ceremonial drum, it will come to keep you awake at night. Wide eyed, and in-love, thoughts swirling with hazel eyes and an innocent smile, your heart clenches painfully as you try and sleep. You toss and turn, but that moment where you brush past her and she smiles at you. That is the moment you know you are done for. Then the gun, shoved in your face as you fight your heart trying to burst out of your chest. You exhale hard. Looking at her is painful. In the history of all your lovers, looking at them was never painful. This is. That terrifies you. It is an unnamed thing screaming in the night to be noticed, begging to be sated, and begging to be adored. It is the spark of something magnificent and terrible, beauteous and revelatory, filled with aching wonder and destruction. Her eyes pierce you like a million daggers and you submit. She cuffs you to a chair and you reach out for her on instinct, your hand brushing over hers sending electricity racing like thundering horses to your brain. You sigh. You are already lost.

And here you are, taking her to bed. Shouting her name into the night like a fervent prayer and it is holy worship and you know you are damned but you kneel at the altar all the same. Kneel and drink, kneel and drink, drink from the divine cup of her hips, the chalice of her breasts, the oasis of her mouth. You have never known a hunger so great, so you smile at her and you ache inside. How is it that you love her so much already? How is it possible, that you loved her from first sight, first glance, and now you touch as if you had spent the better part of the Human history apart?

Some part of you shifted into place. Something that you had always moved around the empty space inside you, you fill with her. It is not the same shape as the hole Christina left, but you don't want it to be. It could never be. But it is enough. It is a salve for the gaping wound that had bled inside you for so long. And you are grateful. Because, maybe God is sorry, maybe he admits your suffering was a mistake. Maybe he has sent to you someone so pure and so beautiful to heal the gash that cuts across your heart and leaves your soul a barren wasteland. Maybe he is sorry. Maybe you are too. You think that you can only destroy something as beautiful as Myka Bering. That she might shatter like glass at your concrete touch. But she is soft and warm against your roaming hands, your aching fingers. She sighs and kisses your palm as it drifts across her face and you ache. God, do you ache.

You fill her with your fingers. You cover her with your mouth. You chant her name in supplication as you move to her divine rhythm. "I love you," you breathe. "I am in-love with you." And she shudders as she cums around your slender digits. A keening cry falling from her beautiful mouth. You wrestle your fear down inside you as you make love to her all night long. You do love her. You have always loved her. The pale heroine you were always waiting for, the auburn haired goddess, the fire-bringer. You ache inside. But it feels like heaven. Her waiting for you, you will not find yourself wanting in all the days that pass. You are wrapped inside that golden light. High above the underworld you used to dwell in, but Hades does not forget so quickly. And darkness has long harms with which to reach you, so you know that you must run. You cannot stay as you want. As soon as morning comes, you must be gone.

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You dream of a great waterfall beating down around your ears, pelting your skin. A cool goddess, naked and afraid, swimming in the lake below, with bright eyes and ruddy, curly hair and a button nose; you stare openly as the water pushes you closer. Her round breasts catch your eye and you dart them back up to catch her expression. She is blushing in such a beguiling way that you feel the ache deep inside you. You want her. She does not realize how beautiful she is and God, that makes her all the more appealing. You strip swimming out to her and her cool arms embrace you. Her kisses fall upon your face like rain. _"Wake up, Helena. Wake up, Beautiful."_

Morning.

You are awakened by Pete Latimer's wailing greetings, to Artie and Claudia, two other Warehouse Agents who shouldn't be there. You shoot up in bed in a flash. Your beautiful Myka greets you and ushers you to dress and hide. You desperately try to lure her back to bed, but she is having none of it. Far more serious than _'you'_ would have chosen in a soul mate, but you smile inside because she balances you perfectly.

You are ushered in to the bathroom and wait like some teenager, hoping not to get caught. You hear them talking. You hear them grilling her on who she brought back to her bed. Chasing her was part of the fun at first. You loved winding her up, seeing that charming blush across her cheeks and chest. Blooming so freely you knew that she was at least, attracted to you. At worst, you would be heartbroken, again. At best, you would relentlessly fuck her if she let you. You never wanted what came in between. In between the silence and sorrow, came a feeling that would pull you under. You fell in love with her. The way she laughed, her glasses perched upon her nose and the look of concentration on her face as she read her favorite books. You fell in love with her, skinny legs and wide eyes shining. You thump your traitorous heart inside your chest. "I really hate you sometimes," you whisper conspiratorially. "Always mucking things up." Your heart thuds dumbly inside your chest. "Nothing to say for yourself," you chuckle. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ "Yeah, that is certainly what I thought."

You briefly consider ducking out the window, and then wrinkle your nose at how undignified that seems. H-fucking-G-Wells does not squeeze out of motel restroom windows in broad daylight or shimmy down drain-pipes, ever. You laugh softly. Your baser instincts are even starting to betray you, because the only thing you have the urge to do right now is protect her. So, you do. As, only you can.

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At the Bed and Breakfast:

Leena is kind and helps you settle into your own room. You adorn it with classic steampunk touches and silk sashes wound around the tops of the four-poster bed. You feel comfortable but out of place, displaced somewhere deep inside your soul. Pete corners you and yells in your face about love and anger, every insecurity in him bubbling up like hot lava and scalding you in the process. You feel it keenly as he jabs his finger in your chest and warns you, _"Not to hurt Myka." _You know that you will and it twists inside you, heavy like a ball of molten lead in your belly. You ignore Myka then, no matter how much it hurts you. No matter how much you have to sneak around to "see" her, peering between shelves, ducking through doorframes, the stealthy Victorian ninja darting through the Bed and Breakfast. "You know you're ridiculous, right?" Leena chides you playfully one day. "Go and talk to her. You're both hurting from this." You huff and storm up to your room, not feeling any better.

Myka fights for you. She awakens things slumbering deep inside you, she inspires you, enraptures you. You want to resist her, but like a Siren, she draws you to her. _"I'm asking you to love me. Don't be afraid of this, of me."_ And you are deathly afraid of this love, of what she does to you, of how her bright eyes can bend you to her will and you can do nothing but surrender to your passion.

You make her scream for you. Thrashing elegantly against your bed sheets, poetry in motion, pure, undistilled beauty, back arching, lungs gasping for breath, breasts bouncing, like a predator you crawl over her. She is yours. No matter who has touched her before this moment, she is yours. You suck a mark against her neck and hear her strangled cry of protest, _what will the others think_? You scoff. They will know. They will understand that to make you give her up they would have to kill you. They would have to douse the immortal flame that beats inside your blood for her and they do not have the power. To lose her would cause a reckoning so great you would tear this world asunder. You tremble at the power of your love for her, this awkward girl, this brave woman. Your body shakes as your orgasm rips through you, a thousand points of light dancing down your spine and shattering your soul. You wail like you are dying and perhaps you are, dying of love.

All night, you worship at the altar of your love. She is like some female young messiah, and you are the disciple she has chosen. You do not question your luck. You dare not tempt fate in such ways. Instead you kneel and rise, rise and kneel, as many times as it takes to satisfy this thirst. You both scream out your love until the sun's rays creep through your window. You are hoarse and sated as you hold her under the covers. She breathes softly and whispers things to you that knit deeply into your skin. "We are all made of stardust," she croons. "But you are my night sky." You hold her tighter as her skin burns into yours. Your entire journey has come down to the arms of this woman, holding you like driftwood in the open ocean. You breathe in her scent; burrow your face in her curly locks. "What if we were the last humans on Earth," she questions. You chuckle softly at that. "Would you ever consider having children again?" You pull back at that and stare into her eyes.

"What did you say?" You choke out.

"Would you ever consider having children again?" She gulps. "With someone, with me?"

You heave a heavy sigh.

She looks away from you and starts to pull back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. Stupid, Myka. Stupid, greedy Myka."

"Stop," you whisper. "You are anything but stupid and I will not hear you talk about yourself in such a fashion." You tuck an unruly lock of hair behind her ear.

Myka chews her bottom lip and stares at you wide eyed and you sigh, again. Because, how could you say no to her?

"I never. No," you choke out. Myka's head bows almost into her collarbone. "Never, until this very moment."

You hear her gasp.

Now her arms are tight around you. "I would want another, someday I think…with you, only you." You weep softly. Christina is looking down on you both and smiling, you just know she is.

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The Warehouse:

It hadn't taken long to get permission from the Regents to be re-instated. This surprised even you. You thought yourself too reckless, too dangerous, and too wild even for their tastes. But, as life often does, it surprises you by the Regents welcoming you back. Your clearance was restricted, which you had expected, but you were allowed to go on missions. To do field work, with Agent Bering, your darling Myka.

You retrieve all manner of artifacts. Lewis Carroll's key, a portal to another world, Jackie Joyner Kersey's stopwatch, which could speed up time, even *Abe Lincoln's top hat, which gave you the almost uncontrollable urge to "free" Mrs. Fredrick. You luckily dodged that one.

One day, you track a dangerous Agent to an abandoned paper factory. You and Myka split up to chase him into the vast darkness of the unfamiliar building. You run down narrow corridors trying to find his lanky and lumbering frame. He possesses Kenshi Unru's Samurai sword, imbued with the killing power from the end of the Edo period, the era of the Last of the Samurai. You rush around a blind corner when you see it, this hulking figure of a man, standing over Myka's motionless body.

Your brain kicks into over-drive. You cannot see her drawing breath. You see the blood on his clothes. _Is that hers? It is so much. _You let loose a guttural scream and run full speed at the man, almost twice your size. Your Kenpo training kicks in and you have since updated it, integrating techniques from Krav Maga and Thai Kickboxing, a fighting-style all your own. The blood curdling screams you let rip from you, make the gods tremble in fear as you bring your fists down upon this man. Your first strike hits his lower orbital beneath his eye, shattering it. You then break his jaw. He falls hard, howling out his pain. You hear the sickening crack of other bones as you strike. You will kill him. The world will run red with the blood of all evil men. You strike him again and again and again, until you feel Pete pulling you off of him. You are howling like a mad dog, screaming out your hatred for God until the Earth trembles beneath your feet. Blood painting your fists as you scream into the dark.

You dimly see Claudia checking Myka's body. You are trembling, rocking yourself in Pete's arms. "Help me," you pray. "Help me. Help me. Someone help me." You call out to the God you found yourself cursing. You cannot imagine he would be so cruel. Not twice.

"She's alive!" Claudia bellows. "It's not her blood, Helena! Helena! Look at me! Look at me! She's okay." Her tender eyes rake over your face as your lip trembles and you blubber out harsh, unyielding tears. You crawl out of Pete's arms and force your limbs to work their way to her slender form. You are gasping for air as you cradle her head in your lap, muttering to her over and over again. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

You do not notice Pete and Claudia exchange worried looks behind your back as they call Artie.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Bed and Breakfast:

It has been a week since the incident at the Paper Factory. You are on probation for your volatile and dangerous response. The man did not die, but he will be permanently disfigured. A twisted reflection of the darkness you carry inside you. You want it gone. You want it to have never happened. But there it is living inside you wound tightly with everything you are. You are your darkness and it is you, but your light is the part you must learn to harness. Light is the thing you need to be most of all. You add daily meditation and practice mindfulness. You hope it will be enough to be worthy of Myka Bering's love.

You walk to the door of her room. Her lithe frame lay sprawled over the bed. Tight jeans encasing agile legs, a flannel button down and tortoiseshell glasses perched on her button nose. Her unruly locks are pulled back into a pony tail. She is reading, but you cannot tell what. You stare at her openly as you pour over her features and contentment blooms inside your chest. This is what you fight for. This is what you would die for. This is all you need.

You approach slowly. "Whatever are you reading, darling?" You question softly.

Myka gasps and puts her hand to her heart, breathing quickly from your sudden approach. "Oh my god! You startled me." She playfully laughs.

"I frighten you then," you question.

"No," she answers confidently.

"I should," you honestly croon. "I am very dangerous."

"Not to me, never for me." She whispers.

"You are right, darling, never for you, only for those that would wish to harm you." You choke out. You drop your gaze to the floor as a tear slides down your face.

"Helena, Helena," she utters softly. "Look at me. You aren't a monster. You just got lost for a little while."

"I did," you choke again the words lodging in your throat like pieces of broken glass. "I got so lost when I thought you were gone. I do not even know who that was, Myka. I am frightened of myself. I am frightened of what I could become without you." You weep openly.

"Come here," she beckons. "Come here," she pats the space on the bed next to her.

You crawl across the light-years between you and maneuver onto her bed. She cradles you in her arms like a child as you cry. Sobbing against her chest and breathing in the scent of sweet vanilla and citrus of her skin. You only cry harder.

"Helena," she whispers stroking your hair. "I am afraid of the world coming between us too. I am frightened of losing you to something that hasn't happened but is only a fear in your own mind. I'm afraid of having everything I ever wanted and having it snatched from my hands, too. You are the only dream that ever became real, for me. I never want it to end. You will have me as long as you want me. I am in love with you and no matter what happens, I always will."

"Say nothing will ever happen," you sob.

"Nothing is going to, don't cry." She coos into your raven tresses.

You lay in her arms as you continue to cry. To properly mourn for the daughter you lost over one-hundred years ago. You had once only felt rage. You had once only thirsted for vengeance. Now, as the sorrow settles into you, building a nest inside your ribcage out of straw and tinder, you weep. You weep for all the beautiful things that are lost. For someone loved them once. They mattered to someone. You weep, dying of love for a woman you do not think you will ever deserve. And maybe God is sorry. Maybe he is, and this is the only way to make it up to you. As Myka pulls back to look at you with her soft hazel eyes and kisses you tenderly, you think that you might forgive him one day.

* * *

(Okay, sorry. That was sad. What the eff? Well, I just wanted to get inside H.G.'s head for a bit. Hope you still enjoyed. As always, please review.)


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